Birthday Surprise
by Darkerhue
Summary: Jim Moriarty doesn't exactly understand the concept of proper birthday presents. - Prompt from Tumblr, T for murder and light swearing -


_A Tumblr prompt from victorian-narwhal. It's not as long as I would have liked, but making it longer would have drawn it out and it would have become so _boring_~. Take a read, let me know what you think, and remember: I'm not nearly as demented as my writing may make you believe :)_

**Birthday Surprise**

"_It's not… easy having yourself a good time…"_

The twist of blankets groaned as the sounds of the Scissor Sisters penetrated the darkened room. A scarred hand fought its way out of the bundle and slapped at the offending phone, miraculously pressing the 'disable' button. A head slowly appeared next, twisting around to check the display.

_Eunice Black. 902A Ennismore. Midnight. x_

Sebastian sighed; half an hour until some poor sod would bloody his bed or kitchen or floor. He stumbled out of bed, tripping over the sheets and blankets wrapped around his legs, and gave a particularly large yawn. The last three nights had seen no bed, no sleep, and certainly nothing that could be considered rest. He had, instead, relieved a heroin dealer of her fingernails and right forefinger, 'convinced' the Russian and Spanish Mobs to follow their given orders, been stabbed in the leg defending Jim whilst he laughed like a fucking dolphin, and successfully frightened the piss out of a 5-year-old Girl Scout. He thought roughly 74 _hours_ of non-stop obedience would be enough to satisfy his boss. Regardless of his aching joints and scratchy eyes, however, he was obliged to do as he was told, and the ex-colonel wasn't tired enough to risk Jim's anger.

He slipped a black shirt and jeans on, squatting down and up a few times to stretch them into comfort. Leather gloves come next, then the old military boots. This had been his wardrobe for the past week; black on blue on black with the occasional purpling and yellowing bruise or crusting line of blood. It was Jim's favourite look for him. He reached into the far back of the closet and carefully pulled out an old Mk1. He checked the phone, slipping the rifle into its bag, and cursed. Fifteen minutes. He swept out the door, flagged down a cab, and prayed he would have enough time to find a proper shooting window. _Tap tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap. _His fingers beat out the rhythm subconsciously as the quiet residential streets of London gave way to the busier inner roads. He slipped out of the cab a block from the target building; 5 minutes to find an acceptable vantage point and set up. Few buildings around the block were both tall enough and close enough to the complex to even consider using. Adjoining flats and business roofs were rejected, one after the other, until the high bell tower of the church across the street came into sight. It was further away than he would have liked, but it provided the best view of 902A.

Sebastian picked the tower's lock in under thirty seconds, climbed to the top in under two minutes, and was set up and sighting across the street with a minute to spare. A light came on in the flat; Eunice framing himself in the window. Thirty seconds. The sounds of traffic and obnoxious drunks faded away into the sky. Fifteen. Clouds moved across the moon and darkened the neighbourhood. Ten. Sebastian breathed in while Eunice stretched his arms, unaware of his impending doom. Five. A soft breath let out as the trigger pulled. The bullet sped away, shattered a hole through the window, and penetrated deep into the man's head. Zero. He fell, slowly and awkwardly, as Sebastian relaxed his shoulders and leaned back from the scope. He opened his phone and flicked his thumb over the touch screen.

_Completed -SM_

The reply came as he lifted the bag to his shoulder, sniper safely tucked inside, and lit a cigarette. A frown flitted across his face as he read the message.

_Lucy Harris, Books Galore Bookstore. One hour. x_

Sometimes Sebastian thought Jim expected him to keep the same sleep schedule as he did. He sighed and started searching the address as he stepped outside. The bright screen showed an obscure image of an old building in Crawley; Books Galore Bookstore. It was just under an hour away by car, toll times not included. He could make it if he rushed and broke a few traffic laws.

* * *

><p>Forty five minutes and several speed violations later, an expensive black car stopped opposite the small and unassuming used book store. Sebastian stepped out, glancing around the empty street. He had closer to ten minutes now to find his mark and position himself. The store was dark; Lucy must live in the small flat just above. The buildings opposite were occupied and unusable, and only a total fool would try and take a shot from the curb, so breaking and entering it was. He sighed and worked the lock open. The hinges squeaked as the heavy door swung inward to reveal the dingy shop. Old and moulding books, packed as close together as possible, lined the walls; their musty smell caused a small crease to form between his eyebrows. Who would tend to them when their caretaker lay in a pool of her own blood? His fingers trailed along the crumbling paperbacks as he slipped a knife from its sheath.<p>

It was quick work finding young Lucy; he ghosted across the store, pausing when the steps of the staircase creaked, listening for any sign of life above him, then continued up, step after step after step, his breathing light, until he reached the peak. His dark figure crouched beside the flat's main door and lightly pushed it open with his hand; it moved slowly, whispering over the old matted carpet. The flat was immaculate; sofa and table placed just so and clear of clutter, kitchen spotless and recently cleaned, going by the sting of disinfectant in the air. There were two rooms in the small unit. The first was a study and storage room with boxes kept neatly on shelves and a dull metal desk pushed off into a corner. There were books in here as well, neatly lining the walls as in the store below. He made a note to come back and look for anything interesting before he left. Behind the last old door, at the end of the hallway, resided the bedroom. He didn't bother opening the door quietly this time, electing instead to loudly kick it in. Lucy bolted out of bed, as expected, and screamed.

"Who are you? What... how did you get in?" He didn't reply as he strode to her side. She backed up, hands held out in front and begging for God to save her. Sebastian kept walking, closer and closer until her back hit the corner. She sobbed, a pathetic sound, and tried to push him away. He shoved her hands off his chest and drove the knife into her stomach, silencing her sniffling for a few glorious seconds. She gurgled a little and looked down at the wound, then back to Sebastian in shock. The knife plunged into her heart, cutting off her words of confusion. Sebastian held her gaze with a blank expression as the bright blue eyes slowly died and dimmed. The body crumpled and he stepped back, wiping the blade on her bed sheets. He strode out of the room, returning to the books in the study, and sent the mandatory text to Jim.

_Done. Let me sleep. -SM_

The academic and non-fiction books had been picked over by the time his phone pinged with a reply.

_No. Bartholomew's Square. 30 Minutes. Man with a top hat and gorgeous suit. x_

This continued throughout the day. Sebastian would kill a seemingly random person and Jim would make him run across the city to off another. It seemed to Sebastian that his boss was having one of _those_ days, so he stopped complaining and did as he was told. He said nothing when he was forced to lay in mud for three hours, waiting for the target to stop pandering to people on the street. He only grimaced slightly when a birthday party was disrupted by the honoured child dropping out of the tree with a bullet through his brain. He certainly didn't say anything about the elderly woman he pushed down the stairs and through a window. It was a day for chaos, apparently. Random, seemingly unorganized, chaos.

It was late when Sebastian returned to his flat. He dropped the bag of weapons on the floor and threw his keys onto the counter. The sun had gone down several hours ago, leaving the rooms dark and grey. He fished around for the light switch, squeezing his eyes shut and groaning when they flicked on.

"You're back awfully late, Sebbie dear." Moriarty grinned up at him from the sofa.

"Just let me get some fucking sleep, boss."

"You didn't like my present?" The small man frowned in disappointment.

"_What_ present. _Why_ would you even give me a fucking gift?" Sebastian looked at him, realizing once again that the man sitting in his living room wasn't the most sane person he'd met.

"Your _birthday_ present, pet," Sebastian scoffed at the name, "Don't tell me you _forgot_ your own birthday. Isn't that sort of thing something people celebrate?" Jim looked thoughtful. Sebastian shook his head, thoroughly confused. He received an equally confused look in return. "I've heard it's a person's special day," Jim frowned, "a day just for you."

"Ok... and?"

"Well, obviously it can't be your special day _and_ someone else's." Sebastian closed his eyes again.

"Ok. So you had my fellow birthday celebrants killed. Why not give me the day _off_ and have someone else do it?" Jim's confusion turned to utter bewilderment.

"That would have been a better gift than letting you murder them?"

Sebastian sighed and silently thanked any deity listening for keeping him on _this_ side of Jim's convoluted plots.

* * *

><p><em>Check out my profile for updates on stories and what I'm working on. Head over to darkrhue dot tumblr dot com for other updates or to stalk me. Whatever xD<br>_

_-Elle_


End file.
